


Not Your Slave

by real__kazekage



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Betrayal, Death, F/F, F/M, Gen, Human Sacrifice, Master/Slave, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27295282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/real__kazekage/pseuds/real__kazekage
Summary: Sha'ira, courier six, has fled slavery under her master Legate Lanius. She tries to make a name for herself and bring good to the wasteland. Yet the nightmares of her past constantly haunt her. Can she overcome her past trauma or will she return to her master's side.
Relationships: Female Courier/Lanius, Female Courier/Veronica Santangelo, Female Courier/Vulpes Inculta
Kudos: 11





	1. A Fresh Start

_I don't want to set the world on fire_   
_I just want to start a flame in your heart_

* * *

_The moon was brightly lit, like the song on the New Vegas radio: Blue Moon. Truly, a sight to behold. So many wastelanders forget to just look up and appreciate the small things that the world as left them. It will probably be the last sight some will see._

_“Maybe Khans kill people without lookin’ them in the face, but I ain’t a fake, dig. You made your last delivery little girl. Sorry you got twisted up in this scene.”_

_The voice paused and the soft sound of a click echoed in the darkness._

_“From where you’re kneeling it must seem like an 18 carrot run of bad luck.”_

_There was a pause and a soft sigh escaped the stranger’s voice. Silence engulfed the already tense air around them as the blue moon gazed down at the scene. Tonight, the moon will be the only witness._

_“Truth is, the game was rigged from the start.”_

**_BAAM._ **

* * *

_“ **Sha’ira**!!” a woman’s voice shrieked as two Legion soldiers dragged her by her slender arms as she kicked the air around her. Her blood stained slave rags barely covered her body and her slave wrap covered half of her dirty tan face. The woman trashed in the soldier's arms as they pulled her away from her daughter. Her bare foot lost its traction in the sand, causing her to fall into the sand below. “NO! NOT MY BABY!”_

_The young girl, Sha’ira, watched in horror as her mother was dragged like a doll against the sand. The soldiers had managed to put her back on her feet but she still trashed like a wild animal in their grip. Her mother turned her head and sank her teeth into one of the soldier's hands causing him to yell in pain. The other legion soldier grabbed his spear and hit her hard against the head. Sha’ira sucked in her breath as her heart dropped in the pit of her stomach at the sight. Her mother fell to the ground, holding her head as more tears fell down her dark features. The man continued to beat her mother with the end of the spear while the other watched with a smirk on his face._

_Then, a hand gripped Sha’ira’s small shoulder from behind, “ **Satis**!” A male’s voice boomed over the camp and the two soldiers stood at attention while her mother whined in pain: holding her head in her hands. “I told you to take her out of camp: not beat her! Or **perhaps** I need to make an example out of you two?” _

_The soldiers shook their heads, fear written on their expressions, and picked up her mother again by her arms. The hand on her shoulder felt like the ton of the world and she was being anchored into the sand below. She wanted to run to her mother’s side. She wanted to protect her! She wanted to do something, but that hand kept her anchored to the ground._

_“Mommy,” Sha’ira whispered and the fingers on the hand tightened on her shoulder at the word._

_“I said take her!” The voice boomed. Then, the man took a breath and placed both his hands on Sha’ira’s shoulders. That horrible anchoring only grew and she felt like the world was starting to shrink right before her amber hues. These hands weren't for protection: they were for installing fear into her. “I told you this would happen Keya, but now you have forced my will.”_

_Her mother weeped at his words as the two soldiers held her up. Shi’ira stared at her broken mother and tears started to fall down her tan cheeks. Her slave scarf had fallen onto the sand and her dirty messy locks covered her dark features. Her mother looked up to her with blood stained eyes, tears falling down her dirt covered face, but despite her being beaten and broken: there was love in her hazel colored hues.The sight only caused more tears to fall from Sha'ira's amber hues.  
_

_“Sha’ira,” her mother whispered toward her. “main tumase pyaar karata hoon….”_

_Those words of love caused more tears to fall down Sha’ira’s face and a sob escaped her. Her heart was now sitting in her stomach and her throat felt like it was closing. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.The fingers on her shoulders only tightened and pulled Sha'ira against their armored legs. The cold armor pricked into her back causing her to groan in discomfort._

_“Take her now,” the man spoke in a calmer tone. The soldiers saluted toward Sha'ira and the man behind her. Her mother’s head dropped but her gaze never left her young daughter.  
_

_“Ave, at once" both the soldiers spoke simultaneously, " Legate Lanius”_

* * *

Oh man, her head is killing her. Sha’ira slowly opened her eyes but closed them once again due to the bright light. Oh no. Was she dead? Her mom always described the afterlife to be a bright light and then either you go to heaven or suffer reincarnation once again. But, she can't be dead! No, she can’t, not yet. Oh, her head was still fuzzy. No, she can't be dead because she remembers the smell of iron -- blood, her blood. She remembers being shot, but by who, it's so hard to see their faces now. She can still see the shinny pistol in the man's hand and feel the metallic coolness against her skin. His voice -- she's never heard anyone talk like that in her entire life: confident with a strange but pleasing accent. Where there three men or just two? No, three. Why did they shot her? The man who shot her...the man wearing the strange suit...he had something in his hand. Yes, she remembers. He put it in his suit, but what was it? She slowly opened her eyes again and turned her head to the side to avoid the bright light. Her vision was blurry and everything looked brown and dull at this angle.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” a stranger’s voice spoke to her side, causing Sha’ira’s senses to fully awaken. She tried to sit up but her entire body felt heavy. What happened!? Panic started to settle in as she desperately tried to sit up and get out of this brightly lit room. Her brain wanted her to run, but her body wanted to stay and rest more.

“Whoa, whoa!” The man’s voice spoke again and gently placed Sha’ira back on the bed. “Don’t over do it!” His voice was so calm and kind to her ears that it settled her back down onto the mattress. 

Her vision slowly started to focus on the room around her. She saw an older man sitting in a chair beside her and a small table filled with scalps,plastic bottled water, knives, stimpacks, and sponges. “You’ve been out cold for a couple of days now. Why don’t you just relax a second , get your bearings,” his voice was so kind it nearly made her want to cry. She didn’t think such kindness existed in the wasteland. She managed to nod and closed her eyes once again, relaxing into the stiff mattress.

“Why don’t you tell me your name and how old you are?” He questioned her.

She was a silent, just enjoying the sensation of calmness that had overtaken her entire being. “My name is Sha’ira,” her voice was hoarse. The man picked up a bottle of water on the side table and handed it to her. She nearly yanked it out of his hand realizing just how thirsty she really was. Afterall, she had been out cold for a few days like he said. She let the cool liquid fall down her throat, and she cleared her throat a few times. “I’m 17 years old.”

He was silent as she drank the entire bottle of water. She turned slightly to hand him the empty plastic bottle and he took it from her, placing it back on the table. A sigh escaped the girl, allowing her guard to fall for once. This old man had such a kind aura, one she has not felt before in her entire life. Are all people in the waste like him? Or is he just special? Sha’ira moved her hand slowly up to her head and felt her thick black locks, then panic settled in once again. Her hand gripped her hair, nearly pulling out strands, feeling for something, feeling for IT. Where is her scarf?!

“Settle down!” The man spoke once again and this time she listened. Her hands let go of her messy black locks and rested them back on the mattress, and she settled back onto the bed. The older man slowly stood up and walked over to a dresser placed against the wall. “I have it right here.”

He picked up the black scarf on the dresser and walked back over to her, sitting in the chair once again. She sighed at the sight of it, and stretched her hands out toward him. “Nice looking might I add,” he placed it in her hands. The scarf was like any other scarf but there was gold engraved at the edges of the fabric and a small golden pendant hung between the edges. The pendant had a bull engraved in it, a symbol for none other than Caesar's Legion. On the other side it had her name written and Legate Lanius as well: proof of his purchase of her. Shi’ira slowly sat up and wrapped her head in the scarf, covering all her hair and the pendant hanging on her forehead. Ah, that’s better.

"What's a young girl like you roaming the wastes for anyway?" He questioned as she gently stroked the pendant on her dark forehead. She blinked at his question and her hues narrowed as she stared at the ceiling.

"Trying to escape," she whispered. That's all her needs to know. That's all anyone needs to know. The man didn't pry as they sat in silence. Then, his hands gently slapped his knees and she turned her attention over to him.

"Well you managed to get up on your own. Let's see if you can stand," the man slowly stood up with a slight groan. Sha'ira moved her slender tan legs over the bed and her bare feet rested on the cold wood below her. Slowly, she stood up but her vision started to grow blurry again. The older man reached out and gently grasped her elbows as she swayed forward.

"Easy, easy," his kind voice whispered to her and she closed her eyes. Her head still felt fuzzy -- as it should since she was shot. She shook her head and slowly opened her eyes once more. Her vision was clearer and more focused. The man smiled slightly at her and gently released his grip on her. He took a step back and Shi'ira strengthened her shoulders back.

"So far so good," he walked over to the other side of the room, standing beside a wooden dresser. "Let's see if you can walk over here."

Sha'ira took one step and then another. For a second she thought she would lose her footing, but she didn't. She walked over to the older man and he smiled at the sight.

"Very good, here are your clothes." The older man opened the dresser door and her black leather armor was right there. She took it from him and dressed herself quickly. "Now let's sit in here and make sure everything is good before I let you go" He walked into the sitting room and Sha'ira followed behind her. Her amber hues gazed to the side to see various pictures. She has never seen such a thing. She wanted to ask him, but she worried he may laugh at her. There were many types of medical items she had never seen as well: bottles with liquid, stimpaks, items with needles wrapped in tape, and so much more. She was only allowed to use herbal medicine, but she had heard that many _profligates_ \-- people, she needs to start calling everyone people and not profilgates --- used these types of medicine. He also had books! Her curiosity was getting the better of her because she grabbed one and opened it. Yet, her heart sank into her stomach because as she stared at the words on the page she realized she couldn't read. The words were just letters, and not letters she was used to seeing. What kind of language is this? A sigh escaped her as she placed it back onto the bookshelf.

She walked over the gray sofa and sat down on it. It looked so comfortable, but it was stiff as a board. Still, this is better than sitting on the ground. The older man was sitting in a chair across from her with some wrap and he was slowly untangling it. They were silent, but it wasn't an awkward silence. She heard the soft sound of a radio playing in another room.

"You never told me your name," Sha'ira spoke softly to him. He chucked and nodded but kept his attention to the wrap.

"You're right. I'm Doc Mitchell as the folks around here call me," he stretched out the wrap and then folded it in his lap. He looked over at her and nodded. "Well I think you are good to go. You walked perfectly fine, told me your name and age, and managed to remind me how my memory is slippin' from me. Let me walk you out."

Doc Mitchell slowly stood up with a groan and she frowned at the sight. He is an older man, yet he still helped her. It would appear the stories about the wasteland aren't as true as the Legion told her. Sha'ira walked behind him, but her amber hues wandered around the hallway. She spotted a glass bottle with the letters N-U-K-A C-O-L-A. It looked like a drink. Everything is so much more interesting in the wasteland!

"Thank you," Sha'ira broke the silence when they reached the door. "You didn't have to help me."

He chuckled. "Sure I did. You needed help. By the way, you might wanna talk to Victor, the big robot, he's the one who pulled you out of the grave," he paused and looked toward the side. There was a bookshelf with a variety of items: books, tape, wonderglue, a cowboy hat, and a very strange robotic piece of equipment. He picked up the robotic item and her amber hues grew wide. What is it? Is it dangerous? He held it in his hands and then looked back to her. "I want you to have this. It's a Pipboy. It may be useful for you. It can tell you the time, a map of the Mojave, and much more. My traveling days are over, but I have a feelings yours are just startin'."

Sha'ira extended her arm out and he gently attached it around her wrist. Her arm fell slightly from the weight but she held it back up and analyzed the strange tech. Something like this was never allowed in the camp. NEVER! She had heard rumors from soldiers about dangerous tech like this, but she thought it was all wise tales. They used to tell her tech like this would electrocute her, but seems they were lying, because she is still breathing.

"I have nothing to give you," she mumbled to the man and he smiled at her.

"I don't want nothin'. Just promise me you won't get shot in the head again," he teased and she smiled slightly at him.

"I'll try," she whispered and her hand rubbed her forehead where her pendant was resting. Hard to believe just a few days ago she was lying half dead in a makeshift grave. It would appear that Mars is smiling upon her to give her this one last chance. One last chance of life. A free life. Now, at this moment, she can be anyone she wants to be. Today, she isn't Legate Lanius' slave anymore. No, she is no one's slave.


	2. First Friend

_ In the shadow of the valley _

_ I would like to settle down _

_ Wide open space _

_ Wind on my face _

* * *

_ "No! My legate I didn't...." the woman before Lanius begged on her knees with tears falling down her face. Her entire body shook from fear as sob after sob escaped her lips. He stood before her, a towering presence of manhood and dominance. She dared not look up at him even with his helmet over his head. "I didn't mean to gaze upon your face! I-I-I didn't know....please forgive me." _

_Sha'ira watched from behind her master's back, gripping his arm chair in anticipation, and fear. Lanius stood there, silent. His other slaves were behind her, keeping their gazes to the floor: never at him._

_ "But you did," his voice felt like it echoed through the entire tent. He took a step toward her, "You saw me. You know what happens to my slaves if they see me." _

_Another sob escaped the woman and Sha'ira's fingers gripped to the armchair, wishing she could just disappear into the wood. She hated seeing this. She hated all of this._ _Lanius turned his head slightly and Sha'ira gazed up at him. She has never been Lanius without his helmet: ever. When she was younger she thought that was his face. Even with the helmet on, she can feel his piercing gaze on her._

_ "My little bird," his voice cooed over to her and her fingers dug into the armchair. "Bring me my sword." _

_Sha'ira slowly stood up and looked around for his sword. It was leaning against his armchair on the opposite side. She walked over it toward it but could still feel his gaze on her. The woman's sobbing echoing in her ears. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of the sword but it nearly fall over, it was so heavy. She inhaled and used both of her hands to pick it up._ _She walked over to his side and one of his hands gently caressed her cheek, but she flinched from the touch. That caressing hand grabbed her chin roughly and then SLAP, she fell to the ground. His sword dropped beside her as she tried to get up, but that slap nearly knocked her out from the sheer force._

_ Lanius bent down and picked up his large sword, holding it in one hand. "Little bird, watch what happens when you disrespect me...." his voice sent a chiver down her spine. He raised his sword up high as the woman before him begged and pleaded, shouting "no" over and over. His sword stayed in the air as she begged, almost silently asking her to beg even more for his pleasure. Then, his sword quickly went straight into one of her eyes and Sha'ira covered her eyes when the woman let out a scream in pain. The sound was unlike anything she ever heard or will ever hear again. _

* * *

The wasteland was nothing like she expected. In the Legion, she overheard soldiers talk about various things: NCR, two headed cows, prostitutes, raiders, settlers, robots on wheels, doctors, and even walking metal men with alien technology. But to see some of it with her own eyes? It is something else. Goodsprings ws a nice little town, nothing like what the Legion described towns to be: filled with drugs, women selling their body to fed their chem addiction, men in pawn shops trying to scam you, and NCR soldiers ready to drag women off into the dessert to rape them. No. The townspeople were kind and helpful. Sunny Smiles actually showed her how to hold a gun properly and how to shoot it. In the Legion, guns were always looked down upon. A true soldier knew how to kill their enemy with a single knife. To be honest, she preferred using melee weapons over guns as well, but to actually hold one was worth the training. 

That woman, Judy, was hard as nails but her voice was soft and filled with kindness.. She even gave Sha’ira 100 caps for fixing her broken radio. Everyone in Goodsprings was kind to her and never questioned the Legion pendant on her forehead. However, the robot, Victor, made her uneasy. Sure, it was kind enough but how did it move? Who created it? Why did it dig her out of the grave? It said it was the right thing to do, but how did it even find her? Of course, she tried to ask but it avoided her questions. 

Before she left, she even helped the town defend itself against a group called the Powder Gangers. A group of ex-convicts who had settled in an old NCR prison just north of the town. The man, Ringo, was shocked Sha’ira wanted to help. But like Doc Mitchell said, it was the right thing to do. It was exhilarating! To help defend a man and a town from an outlaw group: oh it was right out of those stories the other slaves would tell in the camp.

The townspeople of Goodsprings wanted her to stay, but there was a gnawing feeling in the back of her head. Yes, she wanted to find the man who tried to kill her. For revenge? She doesn't want revenge. Not on him, at least. No. She wanted answers. It is so hard for her to remember how she even got in that situation. What was the item he was holding in his hand? She has tried so hard to remember but it is too blurry. Honestly, so much is still blurry. The bullet did more to her brain than just physical change. 

So, she said her goodbyes to everyone and made her way down to the town of Primm. Victor told her the man who shot her traveled down to Primm, so obviously she needed to follow him. The road stretched for miles and miles before her very eyes. That is when she met her first ever NCR soldier outside of the Legion camp: well, she didn’t walk up and introduce herself. Instead, she sneaked behind him and walked from the edge of the hill. Their uniform was what she remembered soldiers brought back to the camp as their own trophies. Some Legion soldiers would keep the uniforms in their footlockers while some wore badges torn off the NCR uniform on theirs: a symbol of their victory. 

Sneaking past the soldiers was easier than she thought. Only one was posted outside the strange looking town, if you could call it that, of Primm. There were a few landmines on the ground, but she disabiled them. The entire town was empty except for some runaway convicts, probably from that NCR prison down the road. They were too busy smoking cigarettes and laughing to even notice her in the shadows. There had to be someone who knew about the man who shot her! 

A building with the words P-O-S-T caught her attention and she went inside. The building was completely empty, but there was still food on the table as if they left in a hurry. There were so many items she took such as magazines with pictures to look, food still hot on the stove, and some purified clean water in the fridge. There was a piece of paper but of course she couldn’t read any of the words, but she did notice the word ‘courier 6’. That sounds so familiar….is she….was she? God, everything is still so blurry, but this stands out to her. 

Courier 6

She was about to leave but then something even more interesting was sitting on the table caught her attention. A pile of robotic looking junk and scrap metal to the side of it. It looked like the robot in one of the magazines she was looking at just a moment ago, but this one looked more advanced. On the side of its read in red tape it read ED-E. She poked it with a dirty fork, but it didn’t move. Her hands felt around the robot looking for some way to wake it up: that’s how it works right? She found a latch and opened it with a piece of the scrap metal, but it was empty inside. Obviously something needed to go inside, but what? She put the scrap metal beside it inside the latch and closed it back. Then, the robot jolted a few times and then made a happy sounding beep. It floated right before her eyes, and it appeared to just be staring at her, but without any eyes: strange thing. 

“Wow,” she whispered up to it and raised her hand up. The robot slowly moved toward her hand and her fingers gently touched the cold metal. She chuckled at the robot and placed her hand back at her side. “Alright then, let’s stick together.”

The robot made a happy sounding beep and she smiled back at it. Her first friend in the Mojave wasteland.. 


End file.
